


howling quiet like a wolf in the dark

by vaudelin



Series: Tumblr fic [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Facials, Flexible Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Star Castiel (Supernatural), Porn Star Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: With an arched brow and a dramatic sigh, Pamela lifted the cover page of the pitch and tonelessly read, “‘Two men, late twenties to early forties. Muscled, but not overly defined. Not hairy, but not hairless either’—I swear to god, Dean, am I wasting time sending you these client emails? Where in here did you think I’d need a twink?”“How about the part where—” Dean reached across the desk and snatched back the pitch papers “—‘he needs to maintain this position without touching himself, just relying on his partner to hold him’—”“Yeah, partner here meaningyou,” Pamela said. “You’re the top in this scenario.”Dean opened his mouth, then let it fall closed. He flipped through the pages of the pitch, suddenly realizing his reading of the scene was totally wrong. “Oh,” Dean managed to say.Pamela’s smirk fell somewhere between smug and incredulous. “So we’re good?”





	howling quiet like a wolf in the dark

Dean dropped the draft pitch onto the desk in front of him, kicking his boots up with a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Pamela swiveled her office chair to face him, her expression pinched with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Not that I’m not flattered,” Dean said, “but I’m pretty sure my bendy-twink days are behind me.” He hauled one leg up off the desk in emphasis, and though his jeans weren’t doing him any favors, he still only managed to make a few inches higher before dropping, his heel hitting the desk with a thud. “See? No bueno.”

“Idiot.” Pamela swatted him off her desk, gathering up the pitch in a quick swoop. Her nose wrinkled as she swiped away the dust flecks from Dean’s boots. “Did you even read it? You’re not bottoming in this one.”

“Wait, what?” Dean asked. “You putting me with a twink?”

With an arched brow and a dramatic sigh, Pamela lifted the cover page of the pitch and tonelessly read, “‘ _Two men, late twenties to early forties. Muscled, but not overly defined. Not hairy, but not hairless either_ ’—I swear to god, Dean, am I wasting time sending you these client emails? Where in here did you think I’d need a twink?”

“How about the part where—” Dean reached across the desk and snatched back the pitch papers “—‘ _he needs to maintain this position without touching himself, just relying on his partner to hold him_ ’—”

“Yeah, partner here meaning _you_ ,” Pamela said. “You’re the top in this scenario.”

Dean opened his mouth, then let it fall closed. He flipped through the pages of the pitch, suddenly realizing his reading of the scene was totally wrong. “Oh,” Dean managed to say.

Pamela’s smirk fell somewhere between smug and incredulous. “So we’re good?”

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t about to admit to misunderstanding the point of Pamela’s meeting so completely. Instead, he grumbled, “Still don’t think you’ll find a guy who’ll meet the client’s exact specifications.”

“You leave that to me to worry about,” Pamela said, placid. She tapped her papers against the desk, straightening the edges. “Now, when I do, are you gonna fuck him or what?”

Dean blew out a breath. He had to stall; he wasn’t this easy. “How much’s the pay again?”

“Jackass.” Pamela rolled her eyes. “It’s a half-hour fetish video, so. Enough.”

Damnit, he wasn’t this easy, was he? “Alright, I’m in.”

Pamela smiled. “Good. Think you’re really gonna like this one.”

* * *

The thing about the world of custom pornography, Dean had found, is that the social group that comprised his coworkers was actually very small.

Not that there weren’t a lot of them working this side of the industry—women filling the years between the bankable ‘teen’ and ‘milf’ stages on the mainstream sites, men mid-progress between bulking up or bulking down from bear to twink—just that Pamela tended to work a tight-knit group with her custom porn house, and that lent well to Dean getting to know everybody that might be on set.

There were actually very few faces that Dean hadn’t met in his years on Pamela’s call list, which is why today’s shoot seemed so odd to him. Dean mentally worked through the potential partners he’d have today, and nobody really matched this client’s precise tastes.

Still, that was Pamela’s problem to worry about, not his. Dean had enough on his mind memorizing the seemingly inconsequential details that this client was worrying about.

“Remember, no reaching around his legs,” Pamela told him, offside while Dean received makeup touch-ups. “If you want to touch him, it has to be between.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean might grumble over the reminder, but he’d been doing this long enough that it was easy to confuse the details from one shoot in another. All clients were particular about camera angles, though the preferences changed constantly between commissioned films. Placement of hands, positions of arms and legs, they all fell into hyperfocus in a way Dean never experienced when he was working in mainstream porn.

“A couple minutes, then you’re up,” Pamela told him, slapping him on the back of his robe, so Dean hauled himself out of the makeup chair and headed for craft services, where a few of the tech guys were loitering around in conversation.

Dean grabbed a plate of meat and buns, nodding acknowledgements to the crew as he went from dish to dish. He rounded the end of the table where the drinks were held, and found himself faced with a strange man he hadn’t met before. Strange, because the guy was wearing a suit and a trench coat at a porn shoot. It seemed a little heavy-handed, even for Dean’s tastes.

“Hey.” Dean tilted his chin at the guy, earning a puzzled look back at him. “You new here?”

The man shrugged stiffly, evading Dean’s gaze. His eyes were bright, his cheeks dusted with a five o’clock shadow.

Dean sidled up closer, tried again. “Pamela drag you to this?”

That earned Dean a brief smile, so small and quick he scarcely noted it before it was gone. “Something like that.”

“Hey. Well, good news is everybody here is shameless.” Food in hand, Dean waved over the room where they were gathered. “Nobody’s gonna judge you for feeling out of place.”

“Thank you for that,” the man said, smiling briefly once again.

Deciding he liked the guy, Dean wiped his hand clean on his robe. “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” the man replied, shaking his hand in answer.

Dean was about to ask about the name when Pamela came up from behind him, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders and shaking him bodily. “Ah, good, you two’ve met. Don’t need to do introductions now I guess, but Cas, this is your partner for today’s shoot. Dean, this is Cas.”

Dean blinked, staring between the two. “Excuse me? _Him_?”

Pamela wrinkled her brow at him. “What?”

“Just.” Dean blanked on what exactly he was surprised about. He settled on giving the guy another once-over, from the too-thin tie to the bewildered look in his blue eyes, the whole accountant-vibe the guy was giving. “You shoot _porn_?”

“Sometimes,” Castiel said defensively. “When the situation calls for it.”

“Wow,” Dean said, gaping. “I didn’t realize you were that … flexible.”

Castiel squinted his eyes. “Cute.”

“I didn’t mean—” Dean exhaled. “Sorry. Wrong foot here.”

“Clearly,” Pamela said dryly. To Castiel, she added, “I’m sorry. Promise, he’s not always this eloquent. Can we steal you away for touch-ups real quick?”

“Alright,” Castiel agreed, still looking at Dean. “I’ll see you on set?”

“Not like we have a choice,” Dean joked, and oh god, what was he _thinking_.

“Right.” Some of the light dimmed from Castiel’s eyes. Pamela shot Dean a ‘what the fuck’ look as she left with Castiel.

One of the tech guys, Ash, came up beside Dean, his mouth spraying sandwich as he spoke. “Real smooth, man.”

Dean groaned. Excusing himself, he escaped to collect himself on set.

* * *

It felt like far too soon when Castiel returned, this time stripping away his clothes. The blue tie sang as it slithered from his neck. Dean hadn’t realized how broad Castiel’s shoulders were before, when they were masked by the sag in his trench coat. The guy definitely fit the ‘well-muscled and lightly haired’ request.

“Okay.” Pamela clapped her hands, drawing attention back to herself. “Just a quick rundown for today’s shoot. Everything’s staying in the living room here. Cameras, we keep on this half of the room,” she said, gesturing to the area connecting to the kitchen and remainder of the house. “The client wants the focus on the way Cas will be bending, so the angles will have to elevate—”

Having already memorized this part, Dean tuned out from the conversation, surveying the room instead.

The living room itself was bright with a banked set of floor-to-ceiling walls and skylights, a fireplace set incongruously against the otherwise uninterrupted view of forest and valley below. In the center of the room was a soft gray couch and two armchairs, all of which were set around a glass coffee table. Dean suspected it cost Pamela more than a few dollars to get their shoot location up here.

“—the couch height, right?” Pamela asked. Dean honed in again in time to see Castiel leaning over the low back of the divan. He was talking low and making complicated hand gestures, Pamela nodding beside him.

“It’ll be fine,” Castiel finished saying, catching Dean’s eye. “Dean will just have to pin me here until he orgasms.”

“Great,” Pamela said, and wow, Dean was never going to get use to his sex life being recited so casually, even if it was only in relation to his job.

The cameras and lights were moved into position, and Dean slipped off his robe in time to join Castiel as he removed his trousers and shirt. Then it was the two of them standing together in their underwear, waiting for their cues to come up.

The guy was cute, looking nonplussed in his boxer-briefs, his gaze caught on the buzz of people setting up around them. Dean could better appreciate his runner’s body now, the thick column of Castiel’s throat meeting the strong line of his jaw. Castiel looked _good_ , exactly Dean’s type. The shoot became that much easier to consider, although it complicated things for Dean.

“Any tips for how to get you in position?” Dean asked, glancing to Castiel from the corner of his eye.

“Push forward, not down,” Castiel answered. “And try to keep your hands farther back from my knees. Use your legs to brace my lower back, when you can.”

“Got it.” Dean nodded, assured. He let his mind clear, falling into the mentality required for the shoot, noting the places where condoms and lubricant were situated on-set. “You need much prep before you’re ready?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was wearing a plug until makeup. Just use your fingers a bit and I’ll be fine.”

Dean rounded wide eyes on Castiel. “You had a plug in earlier, when we met?” When Castiel nodded, Dean whistled. “You smooth motherfucker. I couldn’t tell.”

“That’s the idea,” Castiel said blandly, though Dean suspected he heard a note of pride in the low cadence of his voice.

Cues were readied, and after Pamela went over the last-minute notes, Dean and Castiel were put into position facing each other, standing at the foot of the divan. Castiel still seemed nervous, now that the cameras were tuning onto them. Dean ran his hand down Castiel’s arm, squeezing him gently as a show of support.

“Ready?” Dean murmured, and Castiel nodded. Then the camera lights blinked red, the key and fill lights were positioned, and it was time to start filming the client’s request.

The clapperboard hit, and Castiel’s entire demeanor suddenly shifted, the edge to his shoulders flattening out into one smooth, confident line. Dean watched the change with unexpected rapture, the way Castiel’s hooded gaze swept up to him, his jaw firmed as he reached up to touch Dean’s cheek, reeling him in for a kiss.

Dean met Castiel’s mouth with surprise, his body falling pliant beneath the heat Castiel brought to him. He nuzzled into the cradle Castiel’s palm formed against his cheek, felt himself gasp at the soft nips Castiel made as he worked open Dean’s mouth for plunder. Dean melted into the firm grip Castiel placed on his hip, working Dean closer until their bodies were bumped tight together, gooseflesh rising on Dean’s chest at the sudden touch.

Within a minute of such suave touching, Dean managed to pull himself together, ensuring that he gave as good as he got when it came to their kissing. He played up the heights of his moaning, making himself known to the boom mics above them, though the act became decidedly more real as Castiel mouthed down his throat and chest, falling to his knees in front of Dean’s groin.

Silently, with only his eyes asking for permission, Castiel glanced up to Dean. His long fingers played with the edge of Dean’s underwear.

Dean swallowed, shoring himself up. He planted a hand in Castiel’s hair, just as the choreography expected, and pushed Castiel’s face up against his underwear. “Get to it, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Castiel nodded, his mouth and nose pressed against Dean’s erection. He peeled down Dean’s underwear, forcing it down Dean’s legs until Dean could step out of them. With his hands cupping the back of Dean’s thighs, Castiel gave a final innocent look up to Dean before taking Dean’s cock into his mouth.

And this guy— _this guy_ —Dean would’ve never placed him as a professional cocksucker. He would’ve never guessed that Castiel’s mouth, that chapped pink line, knew how to take a dick so easily. But here Dean was, holding onto Castiel’s hair like his life depended on it, his knees nearly buckling with the surge of wet heat Castiel was lavishing onto his dick.

Dean’s fist tightened, a warning, and Castiel pulled off with a wet pop, his shiny mouth hanging open in a way that would have Dean creaming himself if not for the cameras trained upon them. Dean ran his thumb over the plush bottom lip, gathering up saliva and precome. Castiel’s tongue darted out to touch it, and so Dean plunged the digit inside his mouth, allowing Castiel to suck it clean.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered beneath his breath, unable to believe the sight in front of him.

He let Castiel half-lead them up onto the divan, Dean taking a seat while Castiel stretched across him, head cradled by the armrest. Castiel stripped off his underwear and propped his knee up closer to Dean’s shoulder, leaving his body open and exposed to the camera.

Dean came back to himself and reached to the table for lubricant, then gathered Castiel’s hips back into his lap. He took up Castiel’s crooked leg at the ankle, pushing it up over his lap and onto the couch back. The angle left plenty of room to see how Dean’s lubed fingers fitted so nicely inside of Castiel, sliding up to the knuckle in one slick movement. He touched Castiel’s thigh between his legs, leveraging the limb higher, and pistoned his fingers, adding a second and third finger and moving them until Castiel’s cock was leaking against his belly.

“Please,” Castiel said, resting an elbow against his inner knee, touching Dean’s cheek.

Knowing the client’s rules, Dean hauled himself up from the couch and positioned himself between Castiel’s legs, and then took his time kissing Castiel again.

Carefully, Castiel twisted until his shoulders were situated in the juncture between the divan’s back and armrest. Nodding to Dean, he gave his cue and settled into place.

Dean stepped away long enough to tear open a condom wrapper, and then slipped it onto his aching cock. He turned around in time to find Castiel draped open on the couch, his muscled arms framing his face where they were gripping the divan behind his head. One foot was up on the divan cushions, while the other leg lounged open in invitation, his foot braced against the floor.

Knowing what he needed to do, Dean leaned in, kissing Castiel as he gathered Castiel’s thighs up in both hands. He pushed forward slowly, his face kept close so that Castiel could murmur suggestions, and rolled Castiel’s legs upward until his knees were situated up around his arms.

Panting, Dean looked down at the sight Castiel made, curled upon himself. He braced his weight onto Castiel, readjusting his angle until his cock could slide into Castiel’s hole. And when it did, Dean groaned out with a heavy shudder that likewise shook through Castiel.

“Have me,” Castiel moaned, his gaze hooded and glassy.

Dean pushed his legs wider apart, pressing until Castiel’s knees were up behind his own elbows. It gave him more room to kiss Castiel, so Dean did, being careful to keep his weight forward, not down, as instructed. He kept his thrusts gentle, waiting for Castiel to give a cue when he was ready for more, and Dean took every opportunity he could to kiss the skin within his reach.

Groaning, Castiel released his grip on the couch, reaching with both arms to tug Dean down between his legs. Dean struggled to both support Castiel as well as fit this new position into their fucking, but he managed, his thrusts shortening into little more than a dirty grind of hips, his kisses bumping off their mark as their bodies jostled together.

When Castiel squeezed his shoulder, Dean took the cue and pulled back, leaving room for the camera to view the curve between their bodies. Castiel tugged at his cock in his contorted position, his knuckles brushing his belly, his fist bumping his pectorals on the upstroke. Dean kept his grip steady on Castiel’s thighs, his thrusts shallow and even, allowing Castiel to focus solely on putting on a perfect show for the camera as he finally came.

Dean’s heartbeat pounded in his dick as Castiel orgasmed, angling his fist and neck so that Castiel’s come splashed across his own chin. Castiel looked up to Dean with a dazed look, his lower lip dewy with a pearly sheen. Dean threw himself into the new portion of their choreography, angling his body so that his thrusts could deepen. Castiel’s legs fell apart, sloppy with the loose limbs his orgasm gave him.

Dean pumped his hips harder, his breath falling ragged, heat pooling electric in his lower belly. When he was close, so close, he pulled out with a moan, releasing one of Castiel’s legs long enough to pull the condom off. He fisted himself quickly, jerking his dick until his hips snapped and he was orgasming, come splashing over the mess Castiel had already made of his face.

Castiel closed his eyes, his tongue darting out to touch the globs of come Dean had painted across his lips. He regained himself slowly, while Dean was still panting, his gaze locking with Dean’s in a way that made Dean feel Castiel was the one in control. His eyes were so sharp and so blue, and in that moment Dean would do whatever Castiel wanted, would follow whatever orders Castiel gave him no matter how wild or insane.

Dean leaned in and kissed him, mucking the mess of their orgasms. Castiel’s legs settled closed around Dean, gripping him gently around the waist, and Dean touched his cheek with reverence.

“And scene!” someone shouted from the wings of the living room, but for now Dean couldn’t care who else was with them. There was only him and Cas in this world.

* * *

“Would’ve never thought you had it in you,” Dean told Castiel, after, when they were back downtown snacking on horrible street food. They were spread out on a bench beside one another, enjoying the late evening as the day’s heat dissipated from the city.

Castiel stared out at the street over his hot dog, tilting his head in a way that told Dean he was listening.

“The porn,” Dean said, angling towards him. “The flexibility,” he added, in an afterthought. Not many men in their forties, as Dean had learned Castiel was, could handle such an extreme position for very long.

Castiel shrugged, licking a stray drop of relish from his lips. “It’s a genetic defect.”

“The porn?” Dean asked.

Castiel smirked, briefly. “The flexibility. My vertebrae are loosely held together. Makes it easy to bend like that, at least for short periods of time.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You’re telling me I could have paralyzed you?”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Cas replied. “We didn’t have to explain to any doctors how your dick broke my back.”

A laugh shook out from Dean, so bright and full it caught him by surprise. “Helluva thing to put on my resume.”

“Indeed.” Cas wiped his mouth. “Speaking of. What brought you into custom porn? You are exceptionally and conventionally good-looking.”

“Thanks, I think.” Dean bought himself a moment, chewing as he considered his answer. “When I started, all anybody wanted me for was bottoming. Got older and couldn’t pass it off that teen look so easy anymore, but all my name was good for was being a twink, so…” He trailed off, reminiscing. “At least the custom scene doesn’t give a shit about your history.”

Castiel hmmed, eyeing Dean contemplatively. When Dean quirked a brow in question, Castiel replied, “I’m trying to recall if I saw you in anything.”

“You paying attention to this half?” Dean asked, putting a hand over the top of his face, leaving Cas to focus on his lips. God knew how guys loved to see him sucking them off.

“I actually like this part better,” Castiel replied. He turned Dean’s cheek with a gentle grip, staring into Dean’s eyes.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up in answer. He batted Castiel’s hand playfully away. “Anyway. What about you, what brings you into porn?”

Sighing, Castiel said, “My brother owns a filming house, similar to Pamela’s. It turns out I have a specialized skill set that comes in handy for the occasional shoot, like today.”

“Like today,” Dean agreed. He looked Castiel up and down again, being purposeful with his attention. “What other dark, kinky talents d’you have, Cas?”

“Deep throating,” Castiel answered blandly. “The flexibility, as you know. A tolerance for odd sexual requests.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean flashed a bright smile. “One custom, I had to lay still while two girls and a guy licked ice cream toppings off my back. A dozen little islands of whipped cream with cherries, all drizzled in chocolate syrup and nuts and sprinkles. Definitely had the easy end of that shoot, because everyone else left with stomach aches. The one guy could hardly keep from hurling as he fucked me.”

Castiel tilted his head above a wry look, as if contemplating the visuals of it. “My oddest custom was the one where a woman paid me to destroy a baseball card collection.”

“What? No way,” Dean gasped.

“It was her ex-husband’s collection,” Castiel continued. “Over a thousand cards. I was chosen because I looked like him. She paid to have two beautiful women tear them up in front of me while I cried. Burned the whole pile at the end.”

“Were they real cards?” Dean asked.

“Afraid so.” Castiel winced. “It was a really expensive collection.”

“Holy shit.” Dean whistled. “Now what’s the kinkiest shoot you’ve been in?”

Castiel tched, looking at him ruefully. “Any details beyond that will require your credit card number.”

Dean laughed again. “Would you settle for a second date?”

“You consider this a first?” Castiel asked.

Dean hummed. He bumped his knee playfull against Castiel’s leg. “Wouldn’t say no.”

“Good,” Castiel said, smiling shyly. “Because I think I’d say yes.”

“Good,” Dean echoed back, grinning. Around them, the sun set on a perfectly beautiful day.

**Author's Note:**

> for the [ tumblr prompt](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/185985012403/destiel-and-63-please): _“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that…flexible.”_


End file.
